


you’re the only thing worth taking.

by pheebalouu



Series: oneshots!!! [3]
Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Bisexuality, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:41:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26913829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pheebalouu/pseuds/pheebalouu
Summary: 10/10/2020TW : internalized biphobiaCW : mention of food like. once.hii so this is a little bit. sadder.so im gonna put this short - this is me writing my experience with internalized biphobia which i am experiencing a lot at this point in time!!!!some of this is from my thoughts  before i came out to myself and just. pouring out my emotions and all that!!!! its like 2am atm and im only proofreading this once basbahba
Series: oneshots!!! [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1944046
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	you’re the only thing worth taking.

Thomas has known. He’s known for a while, maybe two or three years. He knows that if he weren’t, he wouldn’t be thinking about it every second of every day. He knows that if he weren’t, he wouldn’t catch himself staring at boys he sees in the hallway, on old magazine papers and TV screens. He knows that if he weren’t, he wouldn’t need to fight off the urge to kiss his best friend, he wouldn’t find himself staring at that boy’s pink lips, rosy cheeks, the way he’d catch his gaze. He knew that if he were normal we wouldn’t be twisting himself inside out over this.

He knows it’s wrong. He’s had people tell him it’s wrong directly to his face, their words chewing at him over and over. He’s had friends laugh about those people, he’s heard words that hurt more than they should’ve. He knows it’s wrong, immoral. But he can’t fight off these thoughts that are consuming him night and day, from the second he wakes up to the second he falls asleep. Feeling his eyes drawn to a boy. Feeling his eyes drawn to a girl. To anyone. 

But the idea of that boy’s hand under his shirt, kissing away all the woes and worries - scathing his cheeks and nose and lips and neck and jaw like his freckles were speckles of gold, all valuable in their own sense - both scared and excited Thomas. The nicknames from both parties and soft touches that sent a buzz through his skin and left his hands tingling. He'd try to convince himself he's just confused, although the sparks on his lips of lingering kisses begged to differ, this confusion feeling like no other he'd ever experienced. Thomas’s heart pounding in of his chest every so often as a screen divided him and the other boy. Boys. 

Pick a side! Don't be greedy. Words like those playing over and over and over. It was as if he could hear those people yelling it in his ear. It wasn't easy. It was never going to be easy.

It feels like everyone already knows what he doesn’t. It feels like each look and glare is another person knowing, watching. Like they’re digging into the back of his skull and finding out all of his secrets. Convinced each whisper in an ear is about him. Like someone’s put his big secret on a billboard and plastered it out there for everyone to see. It feels like each conversation, he’s edged on to mention something - as if he owes that person the right to know. 

But other times he feels like he's faking it. Like he's wrong. Like he's just starved for attention, or that his brain needs a distraction. Somehow, someway, he second guesses his second guessing.

He’s sixteen. He knows how to do algebra. He knows how to ride a bike. He knows how to make toast. He knows how to lie. He knows how to label a map. He knows how to tie his shoelaces. He knows how to annotate a book. He knows how to swim, how to draw. But he’s sixteen and he knows well enough when his eyes lock with another boy’s, that the leaping in his chest means much more than he could ever begin to put into words.

For him, it’s like being asked to sing a song you’ve never heard before, but you recognize the tune. Haunting you until you’re forced to realise what you wished would go away on its own.


End file.
